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Story:Star Trek: Prometheus/Rightful Destiny/Chapter 1
ONE The stars wheeled overhead as a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees in Earth’s Yosemite National Park as a trio of men sat around a campfire. The campsite that the three men were using was surrounded by ancient trees with the roughly round dirt clearing with a roaring campfire at its centre. Around the campfire, in the shape of a triangle, were the three logs that the trio were using as chairs. Nearby was one of El Capitan’s near vertical bluffs that was similar to the one James Kirk had climbed when he was on shore leave with Spock and McCoy in 2293. Two of the men were swapping tales of various adventures from their youths. The third man was, as was typical for his species, denying that he had done anything improper during his youth. The man with the black goatée, black hair, and black irises was the half-Betazoid, half-human Starfleet Captain Logan Hamish Lon Joseph MacLeod. When Logan was thirteen his father, Starfleet commander Argyle MacLeod, had left his wife and son so he could re-enlist in Starfleet. That was twenty-three years ago in late 2354. Logan had never forgiven his father for leaving which forced him to grow up, emotionally, far more quickly than he should have had to. Logan’s mother, Leilani, had gone into a six month long depression when Argyle left them. Knowing that she, as a Betazoid, could read his thoughts had forced Logan to bury his grief and resentment in an attempt to lighten the burden his mother would feel. Eventually Logan and Leilani did get over the loss and moved on. In 2355, Logan - whose school file described his as a wünder kid - completed an accelerated high school program and qualified for early admission to Starfleet Academy as a first year cadet in the upcoming fall class. In spite of the understandable resentment that Leilani felt towards Starfleet she attended his graduation four years later. The second man sitting around the campfire was a brown-haired joined Trill called Durgan Morlon that had. Durgan, who was a lieutenant commander, had grown up in the capital city of the Trill homeworld and known Logan at the academy - before he was joined. Prior to being joined to Durgan, Morlon been joined to a man called Kieran and had served with Logan’s father. The third man, the one in denial, was a black-haired Vulcan called Solen had been friends with logan and Durgan for the past twenty-two years, since their first year at Starfleet Academy. As Durgan told them a story from Kieran’s childhood Solen reached into his backpack, which lay on the ground next to his right foot, and pulled out a silver tube, about six inches long, with controls along its length and a hole at one end and pressed one of the buttons which made it start whirring as it pushed out a fluffy white, short, tube-shaped, foodstuff that was almost exclusively artificial chemicals and that didn’t look very nutritious. “What are you doing, Solen?” Durgan asked as Solen put the silver tube down. “I am preparing to toast a marshmellon.” Solen explained. “A marshmellon?” Logan asked with a grin on his face, knowing that Solen had made one of his rare mistakes in saying the name of the foodstuff, a marshmallow. “What do we do after we toast the marshmellon?” “We consume them.” Solen said with a straight face. “After that.” Logan said with a chuckle as he shook his head slightly as if he was wordlessly quoting the human saying about asking an unintelligent question. “I believe we are suppose to engage in a ritual known as a ‘sing-a-long’.” Solen said. “A sing along.” Logan said with a chuckle. A moment later he cleared his throat and began singing ‘Row, row, row your boat’. Moments later Durgan joined in just before Solen. As the three of them sang Logan though it was a good thing that he had taught Solen and Durgan various sing-a-long songs when the three of them had taken their wilderness survival practicum at the Academy. A while later, after their sing-a-long ended, the trio of friends decided to give in to their tiredness and turn in for the night. After putting out the campfire and gathering their food and belongings the three of them retired to the to their one-man tents. Early the next morning Logan, Solen, and Durgan woke up and had a breakfast of freeze dried oatmeal from Starfleet ration packs and water from a nearby artesian well. After breakfast Logan and Durgan gathered up their fishing rods, tackle boxes, and bait containers and headed for the nearby stream as Solen prepared to mediate. As the two of them sat by the stream Durgan looked over at Logan and was amazed by how much Logan looked like his father when he fished. When Morlon had been joined with Kieran he had gone fishing with Argyle both before and especially after Argyle’s re-enlistment. “Logan,” Durgan said, “you know you look a lot like your father when you fish.” “Ah'mno like mah paw!” Logan involuntary spat out in rage as his limpid black eyes filled with anger and his Scottish accent thicking involuntarily, “that bloody erse left me and mah maw 'cause having a wife and bairn kept him from havin' the grand adventures he craved. He did nae care a wee bit about us.” “You’re wrong, Logan, your father cared about both of you. He deeply regretted hurting the two of you.” “What would ye ken 'bout it, Durgan?!” Logan asked as he got his emotions under control. “Logan, You’re talking to Morlon now! I was on the away mission that Argyle was killed on.” Durgan paused choked up by a painful memory, “Argyle was one of my closest friends. He died in my arms. His last words were him asking me to apologize to you and your mother for his leaving and to tell the two of you that he loved you. Don’t you remember when I brought his body back to Earth to be buried? You, Durgan and Solen came from the Academy for the funeral.” “Aye, I do 'member,” Logan said, “but what I 'member more is how mah maw went into a four month long depression when he left and how I had to do everything around the house while going to school and shield mah feelings from mah maw’s telepathy so she would nae feel worse than she already did.” “Your father DID regret leaving the two of you, Logan.” “Nae enough to come home or even contact us.” “He was afraid to.” “He was afraid of a wee lad and his maw? What a coward!” --- Two hours later Logan was in the highlands of Scotland visiting his childhood home, a farm on the shore of Loch Shield, his mother and his pet Sehlat Wallace. Being a Sehlat, an animal native to Vulcan, Wallace looked like a large bear, roughly the size of a Volkswagen bug with six inch incisors sandy coloured fur. Whenever he was planet-side Logan made a point of trying to stop by and visit his mother and old pet that his father had imported for him, as a cub, for his tenth birthday. “Are you sure that you can’t stay the night?” Leilani asked, telepathically. “Aye, maw I am.” Logan responded in kind, I can only stay for a few hours. Command wants me back this afternoon. I officially take command of the Prometheus today.” “Ah, I see. When does Durgan get here to pick you up?” “He should be here in a few hours. He had to attend a briefing at the Engineering Corps HQ.” “What’s Durgan’s briefing about?” “The prototype systems onboard the Prometheus. She’s a class prototype after all.” Logan said. “Ah, did you have to have a briefing about your new ship?” “Yes, it was mostly engineering briefings about the prototype and enhanced systems. But the good thing was that it was conducted by the head of the engineering corps, captain Montgomery Scott.” “Montgomery Scott. Why does that name sound familiar?” Leilani said aloud. “Probably because he’s a Starfleet legend unto himself and he was also James Kirk’s chief engineer on the Enterprise and Enterprise-A.” --- Later that morning Logan was sitting on the porch talking with his mother as he reached over and pet Wallace on the head. Suddenly the air was filled with the characteristic sound of a Starfleet transporter’s harmonic effect. Wallace perked up when he heard the transporter whine and bore his fangs and began growling as soon as Durgan materialized on the front path. Recognizing Durgan from his previous visits Wallace harrumphed and laid back down on the porch. “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. MacLeod.” Durgan said to Leilani. “I told you to call me Leilani, Durgan.” Leilani chided Durgan jokingly, “You’ve got Kieran’s symbiont AND you knew Logan before you were joined. You’re like part of the family.” “Okay Mrs. MacLeod…I mean Leilani. It’s just going to take a little getting use to.” Durgan said. Turning to Logan he said, “We’ve been ordered to be back onboard the Prometheus within an hour and a half.” “Very well,” MacLeod sighed, “Could you give us a wee moment?” “No problem, I have the Spacedock’s shuttlecraft Pierre Elliot Trudeau in orbit. Contact me when you’re ready to beam up.” Tapping his communicator Durgan ordered the computer of the Pierre Elliot Trudeau to beam him aboard. Turning to his mother Logan gave her a hug and told her he had to go. Telling him to take care she called Wallace to the edge of the porch with a gesture. MacLeod patted Wallace on the head and told him to take care of Leilani. “MacLeod to Pierre Trudeau,” Logan said after he tapped his communicator, “Beam me up, Durgan.” “Aye sir…energizing.” MacLeod heard Durgan’s voice say as he felt the transporter begin to dematerialize him. --- “Garav!” Logan shouted when he saw an Andorian, with lieutenant commander’s pips on his gold uniform collar, in one of the Spacedock’s officer’s lounges, “There you are!” Garav Rimosi, who had been Logan’s first officer when the two of them were assigned to the Anti-Borg Task Force stationed at Starbase 324, was to do triple duty as Logan’s second officer, Intelligence officer, and chief tactical/security officer on the Prometheus just as Durgan was to pull double duty as Logan’s chief engineer and third officer. “Captain,” Garav said as he headed towards his long time friend, “Have you seen the ship yet?” “Naw, I have nae,” Logan said in his Scottish drawl as he Garav and Durgan sat down at a table, “Although I’ve familiarized myself with all the specs and diagrams and had my belongings transferred to the Prometheus.” “I saw her from a distance,” Durgan said, “as I was approaching the Sovereign in the shuttle I was taking over to get the last of my things. She’s sure is beautiful, and from what Command tells me she’s fast too. Her cruising speed is warp nine and her max is warp nine point nine-nine.” “And she’s armed to the teeth,” Garav said, “Command’s briefing told me that she’s got eighteen type twelve regenerative phaser arrays, three torpedo launchers, a whole whack of quantum and photon torpedoes, ablative hull armour, regenerative shields, and that new ‘multi-vector assault mode’.” “A whole whack, Garav?” Logan said jokingly, “dinnae use so many technical terms, I’m having trouble keeping up with ye.” “Very funny, sir.” Garav said dryly. Since he was anxious to get onboard his new ship and start his duties he continued on, “When’s the transport pod over leave?” “In a couple of hours.” Logan replied. --- Meanwhile, in another lounge on the Spacedock, lieutenant Jonathan Sulu, the great-grandson of Hikaru Sulu, was sitting at the bar nursing a drink listening to the soothing sounds of conversations blending together into the white noise created by the life support systems as a female lieutenant commander approached him. “Lieutenant Sulu?” She asked. Startled Jon turned around and looked over and was startled to see a very buxom Ktarian woman standing there in a Starfleet uniform. As a Ktarian she had cranial crest, which had two bumps and an eyebrow ridge. The woman’s eyes were her among most striking features with their vibrant amber hue and “cat’s eye” pupils. “Yes, and you are…?” Jon asked as he noted the blue-green uniform collar, which indicated a specialty in a branch of science, emerging from her black and grey uniform tunic. “Doctor Atana Ral, the CMO of the Prometheus.” Atana said as she took a seat beside Jon and offered him her delicate hand, “Since you’ve been assigned to be the Prometheus’ chief Conn officer I thought that I should introduce myself.” “Jonathan Sulu,” Jon said as he shook Atana’s hand, “But you already knew that.” “I make it a point to familiarize myself with my patients before the ship I’m posted to heads out.” Atana said, “Sulu, related to…?” “Yes,” Jon said answering the question he knew that she was asking, “Hiromi Sulu is my father, Demora Sulu is my grandmother, and Hikaru Sulu is my great-grandfather.” “Starfleet’s in your blood, huh?” “Yea, my parents, grandparents and great-grandpa were all in the fleet,” Jon said, “it’s sort of a family thing…to explore and serve…you know that old thing.” --- Solen, whose red uniform collar bore the three solid pips of a Starfleet commander, walked along the pathways of the immaculately maintained Starfleet Academy grounds looking for a particular human, an elderly man known only as Boothby. Boothby was the head groundskeeper of Starfleet Academy for over fifty years, despite his seemingly minor role at the academy many of Starfleet’s captain’s wouldn’t be where they were if it wasn’t for Boothby. As a result, it was rumoured that Boothby was more than he seemed. Some of the rumours said that Boothby actually an undercover admiral, other theories got even more absurd…apparently, if he wasn’t an undercover admiral, he either had precognitive abilities or he was from the future. As Solen neared a grove of ancient and massive oak trees, the old man he was looking for stepped out onto the path causing the dark-haired Vulcan to stop in his path. The only expression that Boothby had surprised Solen was that he had raised an eyebrow for a moment. This was enough for Boothby, he knew how to read Vulcans…to him they were as easy for him to understand as easy as it was to see that a fifteen year old boy had a crush on a woman ten years his elder. “Commander Solen,” Boothby said as he gestured for Solen to step off of the path to let a group of first year cadets pass by, “You’re late.” “My apologies Mister Boothby,” Solen said as he stepped from the path, “I was unavoidably delayed, my briefing at command lasted longer than I expected. I hope that my tardiness did not cause you any inconvenience.” “It’s not like you to make excuses, Solen,” Boothby said, “You’re becoming more human every day.” “I was not attempting to offer an excuse. I was merely offering an explanation as to my tardiness for our appointment,” Solen said plainly, “As for my becoming more human I assure you that my genetic code has not been sufficiently altered so as to conform to the human norm.” “I was joking, Solen, you need to work on that sense of humour.” “I shall endeavour do so, however that is not why I desired an appointment with you.” “You are worried about how your daughters are doing at the academy. You’re wondering if they’ve made friends with any non-Vulcans. You’re hoping that they each have a friend who will be as good a friend to them as Logan has been to you,” Boothby said voicing Solen’s concerns, “Does that hit the nail on the head?” “Vulcan’s do not worry,” Solen said trying to cover up his transparency in typical Vulcan fashion, “I merely desire to know the status of their studies at the academy. I would not presume to desire to have my daughters live my experiences. I simply wish to know how their studies are progressing, not as their father but as a Starfleet officer who is desirous of knowing if Starfleet’s training is adequately preparing the future Starfleet officers. Any less would be illogical and entirely unacceptable.” “You ARE worried about your daughters and you DO want them to have experiences similar to yours because you feel those experiences have been beneficial to your development as a individual. You are parent who wants the best for his children, any less would be to deny the truth…and that would be, as you so eloquently put it, illogical. Your daughters are excelling in their studies and they have made several good human friends.” “You are entitled to believe what you wish. Since it appears that you are not taking my statements into account I will desist in my efforts to persuade you to believe that my statements are truthful.” “You’re right,” Boothby said, “I am entitled to believe what I want. Despite what you believe I have listened to what you’ve said, it’s just that I know how to read between the lines and see what you’re really saying and I know what you are, a parent who cares about his children…a good parent.” --- Logan was sitting in the flag officer’s lounge on the Spacedock when the door whooshed open. Logan looked to the door and saw an ancient looking man, wearing a Starfleet uniform, with a glint in his eyes that belied his ancient looks walk into the lounge. On the admiral’s collar were admiral’s pips on either side of his throat. Seeing the admiral, Logan got up and stood at attention. “At ease, son,” The admiral said in a Georgian drawl, “you look like you’ll sprain something. I just came to let you know that interest of ‘security’ the brass decided to cancel my inspection of the Prometheus. You won’t have the burden of having this cranky old man on your ship but you will have to deal with Owen Paris, he’s going to be waiting for you on the Prometheus to give you your orders.” “You’re never a burden, admiral McCoy,” Logan said as he stood at ease, “You’re the only admiral I know that has a healthy disregard for the bureaucratic red tape. It’s refreshing. As for Admiral Paris, I’m able to deal with him and if I can nae there’s always the torpedo tube.” Laughing heartily at the thought of Owen Paris being fired out of a torpedo tube McCoy spoke once his laughter subsided while he took a seat and gestured for Logan to do the same, “Boy, with that accent of yours you sound like an old friend of mine.” “Captain Scott?” Logan asked McCoy questioningly. “You know him?” “Of course,” Logan said with a chuckle, “Our two clans have been allies for nigh on nine centuries…that and he briefed me about the Prometheus’ prototype systems, and gave me the replicator pattern for an adequate synthahol-based blended malt scotch.” “You should appreciate this, then,” McCoy said as he reached into the tote that he had slung over his shoulder and pulled out a bottle and a couple of glasses, “a 2391 scotch. The genuine article not that replicated stuff. Scotty gave it to me, do you want some?” “Sure,” Logan said as McCoy began pouring, “If Scotty chose it then it’s sure to be good.” “No doubt,” McCoy said as he passed Logan a glass and picked up his, “Here’s to the Prometheus the toughest ship in the fleet.” “And here’s to captain Scott, the original miracle worker and the best damned scotch chooser in the Federation.” Ten minutes later, as McCoy was telling Logan about an the first time the Enterprise, under captain Kirk, visited the planet Argelia and how Scotty had been the prime suspect in a series of murders that later turned out to have been committed by the a governmental official whose body had been taken over by a non-corporeal life-form known on Earth, during the nineteenth century, as Jack the Ripper when Garav’s voice sounded over Logan’s communicator. “MacLeod here. Go ahead.” “Captain,” Garav’s deep baritone voice said over Logan’s communicator, “the travel pod is ready. shuttlebay thirteen.” “Very well, I’ll be there momentarily. MacLeod out” Turning to McCoy Logan stood up and straightened his uniform before he spoke, “I have to go, sir… I’ll see you later, sir.” “You better come and see me the next time you’re planet-side… We have a bottle of scotch to finish off and I’ll give you my family recipe for beans. Trust me, you’ll like it.” “Aye, sir,” Logan said with a chuckle, “I’ll do that. I dinnae intend to let you drink a good bottle of scotch without me.” With that, Logan headed out of the room and for shuttlebay thirteen. --- Several minutes later Logan walked into the shuttlebay and saw Garav and Durgan standing beside with lieutenant Jon Sulu and the most gorgeous woman that Logan had ever seen - a buxom Ktarian woman with shoulder-length, curly crimson hair, and emerald hued eyes with ‘cat’s eye’ pupils. Logan joined the quartet at the side of the shuttle as one of Spacedock’s flight teams checked the shuttle’s systems prior to launch. “Sir,” Jon said, “It’s a pleasure to be serving under your command, again. When I was transferred off the Ticonderoga I didn’t think I’d serve with you again.” “I specifically requested that you be my chief conn officer, Jon. I know how good you are and I figure the Prometheus could use a steady hand at her helm.” “Doctor Atana Ral.” Atana said extending her hand to Logan. “My new CMO,” Logan said shaking her hand, “It’s good to have you on the team. Just so you know, admiral McCoy personally assigned you to the Prometheus.” “I figured as much,” Atana said, “When we met he was intent on proving to me that he had near limitless pull in Starfleet, I think he was just fascinated by the fact that I’m a Ktarian and was trying to impress me.” “Why would you think that?” “Because he asked me if I was impressed yet. I said no and he asked what would impress me, so I told him that if he could have me assigned to be the chief medical officer of the Prometheus then I’d be impressed.” “Excuse me, sir,” a Denobulan ensign on the flight team said to Logan, “the travel pod’s systems check out, she’s ready to go.” “Thank you ensign, please inform the control booth and station operations that we’ll be ready to leave momentarily.” “Aye, sir.” The ensign said before she left. Forward to Chapter Two